


Work In Progress

by breeisonfire



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Gen, angst my dudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 16:51:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10926012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breeisonfire/pseuds/breeisonfire
Summary: Drunk Scott and Virgil to the rescue.





	Work In Progress

**Author's Note:**

> A while ago, flyboytracy mentioned something along the lines of 'Drunk Scott getting stuck in a kiddie ride and Virgil having to rescue him.' I wrote it but never uploaded it, so here it is.

Alright, it’s been a really long couple of weeks, Virgil will give him that, but _this_ is just beyond ridiculous.

Scott’s got a tell when he’s too close to the end of his rope. Scott can take a lot - he takes too much, in Virgil’s opinion - but even he has his limits and usually Virgil’s able to catch it way before this point, but as he said. It’s been a really, _really_ long couple of weeks. Virgil’s barely even _seen_ Scott unless on a rescue, and even then it’s less ‘see him’ and more ‘see Thunderbird One’ or ‘hear Scott over the comm.’

Thankfully, they’re now on scheduled downtime, so the five of them were in Miami on a real family vacation, for the first time in a while. And somewhere between stopping Alan from eating his weight in chicken wings and dragging Gordon out of the water long enough to eat, they misplaced Scott.

Normally, it wouldn’t be a big deal. Scott’s a big boy. He’s a responsible, if somewhat a little reckless, and he’s Virgil’s older brother. There is no reason Virgil should be so worried.

But his ‘Scott senses’ were tingling and they’ve never been wrong before. So, entrusting the younger two to John, who seems less than impressed with Virgil’s logic, he sets off to find him.

It’s not that difficult, considering Scott had his phone and the GPS was on. That had been a rule their dad had set, after one family vacation where Alan had wandered off and fallen asleep in a museum. They’d retraced their steps and found him seven hours later, sleepy and confused, having not heard his phone ringing, nor known that his GPS was off.

So, Scott’s GPS was on. As always. It’s almost a relief to see he’s only at a mall, three miles away. Virgil assumes he’d walked, wanting some alone time from the others, or maybe to buy their grandma a present.

He had not expected this.

Scott’s drunk. He’s very drunk. Virgil hasn’t seen him this drunk in a while, though Scott doesn’t usually get drunk while on the island, on the off chance that he’s needed. Still.

Worse than that, though, is that he’s somehow managed to get himself stuck. In a kiddie ride.

It’s a helicopter, which is somewhat appropriate. It’s old and still working, miraculously. Scott’s wedged himself in good, his knee bent in a way that probably isn’t healthy, and bent over forward, pretty much in half. His other leg is free, sticking out of the side of the ride. He’s got both hands on the controls, and clearly succeeded in getting a coin into it, since it’s moving.

Virgil doesn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or take a picture. He decides against all three and clears his throat.

Scott turns his head and grins at Virgil. “Heya, Virg. What’s going on?”

Virgil is not impressed. He raises an eyebrow. “You okay there?”

Scott thinks about it for a while. Then a while more. Then, “I’m stuck.”

“I can see that,” Virgil says, stepping closer. It’s lucky no one else is around. Virgil’s not quite sure how he’d explain this. “How much did you drink?”

“Don’t know,” Scott says. “S’good stuff, though.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Virgil kneels down. Scott doesn’t seem to be hurt, though the alcohol could be delaying his reaction or masking it. “How did you get stuck?”

“I just wanted to ride the helicopter,” Scott mumbles. Virgil sighs and reaches forward. He pulls at Scott’s leg carefully, watching him for any sign of pain. Scott doesn’t seem to even notice, which does not make him feel better.

Soon enough, Scott’s been extracted from the helicopter ride and is sitting on the bench right next to it. Virgil makes him promise not to move before hurrying to the vending machine near it to get a bottle of water. When he returns, Scott’s still sitting in the same place, staring at the helicopter.

Virgil opens the water bottle and hands it to Scott, who takes it but doesn’t drink. Then he sits, and says, “So.”

Even drunk, Scott knows him well enough to hear the question he doesn’t ask out loud. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” Virgil counters. “You don’t have to be. Damnit, Scott, just talk to me.”

Scott’s quiet. He takes a sip of the water, passes the bottle from hand to hand. Then, finally, looking at the ground, he says, “Do you remember the last thing Dad said to you?”

The question catches Virgil off guard. He thinks about it, but Scott continues before he can answer.

“I don’t,” he says. “I did. For a long time. But the memory’s blurry now, I can’t remember it. I can’t remember his voice, or how he sounded saying it. I can’t remember the words. I can’t _remember_ , Virgil.”

VIrgil doesn’t know what to say. “Scott…”

“I know, I know, it’s natural, it’s okay for me to not remember, whatever,” Scott says. “I just…”

There’s a long pause. And then, quietly, as if only to himself, Scott says, “I miss him.”

It’s like the words take all of his leftover energy from him, because he slumps, leaning on Virgil heavily. Virgil lets him, knowing he needs it, needs the support. It’s the least he can do.

“I miss him, too,” Virgil says softly. “Every day.”

And there’s nothing he can really say to make that go away. That’s always going to be there, it’s always something that they’re going to be aware of. Maybe some days it’ll be less obvious, maybe some days it’ll hurt a little less than others, but it’s still _there_. Virgil knows this. He knows Scott knows this. Each of his brothers know it, too.

But Scott probably knows it best. Virgil knows he’s had to take a lot of the responsibilities that were always their dad’s, and he knows that Scott does a lot of work that they probably don’t even know about. He doesn’t like it, but he’s tried pushing before and Scott won’t have it. It’s a work in progress.

In the morning, when Scott’s sober and hopefully not too hungover, they’ll talk. For now, all he can really do is let Scott lean on him, physically as well as emotionally, for as long as he needs. It’s not much, but it’s all he can really do. He hopes it’s enough.


End file.
